A Thousand Words
by Ailee17
Summary: Harry never could have predicted how much his life would change after making a surprising discovery at the Dursley household the summer before Second Year. The young wizard returns to school looking for answers, and ends up finding so much more. Snape/Harry mentor fic. No slash.
1. The Picture Frame

**A/N: Hello, everybody! I hope you are all enjoying a wonderful evening (or morning/afternoon, depending on where in the world you are). **

**So this is my very first try at a Harry Potter fanfiction, which is surprising seeing as I have been absolutely obsessed with the books from the time I was eight years old. But I have recently been reading quite a few Snape/Harry mentor/adoption fics and knew I would have to write one myself. **

**I know that there are a million of these stories out there already, but I just love them so much. Now there are a million and one :)**

* * *

><p>Harry peeked cautiously around the corner, his eyes taking in the sight of the pristine kitchen. He had tried to hold off as long as he could, but he couldn't stand it any longer. His head was pounding, and he felt incredibly weak. He <em>had<em> to eat something_. Anything._

"What are you doing standing there?" a shrill voice broke through the silence of the house. Harry flinched and, recognizing the voice of his aunt, immediately turned his gaze towards the floor. He mentally kicked himself for not noticing her before, sitting at the dining table. He had been too focused on the refrigerator, trying to imagine what he could possibly take from inside that the Dursleys wouldn't notice. _"Well," he thought to himself. "At least it isn't Uncle Vernon."_

"Well?" Petunia bit out sharply when no reply was immediately forthcoming.

Harry allowed his eyes to travel upwards by a fraction. His aunt seemed to be going through several boxes of old pictures. They were all spread out across one side of the table, and the woman currently held a small stack of the old photographs in her hands as she glared at her nephew.

Normally, Harry wouldn't bother asking. The Dursleys hated questions, and he could usually predict what their answers were going to be anyways.

But he was starting to feel desperate.

"Please, Aunt Petunia. I was wondering if I could...have something to eat?"

"You heard Vernon. No meals for the rest of the week," Petunia practically spat. "How _dare_ you even ask, after what you did to Dudley?"

Harry hadn't done anything to Dudley. Dudley had just gotten upset when he and his gang had been unable to catch Harry in a game of "Harry Hunting" earlier in the week. Convinced that Harry must be using "the m-word" to avoid getting caught, Dudley had made up some story about Harry shouting nonsense words and trying to curse him and his friends.

Of course, Vernon and Petunia believed him. And Uncle Vernon had never been so terrifying as he had been directly after that incident. Harry tried not to think about it too much, but he couldn't help but to bring a hand up to his cheek at the memory. A bruise was still visible there. Thankfully, it was the only one Harry had to see when he looked in a mirror.

Harry swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. I'm just so _hungry. _Please—"

Harry was suddenly interrupted by a long, low grumbling sound coming from his stomach. Embarrassed, he wrapped an arm around his middle and fell silent, his eyes falling back to the floor.

It was silent in the kitchen for the next few seconds. Harry was afraid to even breathe too loudly. But then he heard the scraping of a chair as his aunt stood from the table. He cringed slightly as Petunia neared him, but she passed him without a word and continued to the refrigerator.

Harry waited nervously, not really believing that his aunt was getting him something to eat. She was probably getting a snack for herself. Or for Uncle Vernon, who would likely be home from work very soon.

He looked up as he heard the refrigerator door close, and found himself surprised when, in the next second, Aunt Petunia was thrusting a thin slice of cheese into his hand.

"That's all you get, so don't you dare ask for more."

It took a second for Harry to get over his shock. But when he finally opened his mouth to murmur a quick "thank you", he snapped it shut immediately at the look of pure loathing on his aunt's face.

"You better finish that before Vernon gets home," she said simply, brushing past her nephew. "He will not be happy if he catches you with food."

It was of course exactly at that moment that the front door banged open, and Uncle Vernon's booming voice could be heard from down the hall.

"Petunia, come see the new car the company gave me," the man called out, clearly excited.

With one last glare at Harry, Petunia swept out of the kitchen to go meet her husband outside.

Wasting no more time, Harry shoved the entire slice of cheese into his mouth and turned, intending to be back upstairs in his bedroom before his uncle came back inside.

But a sight out of the corner of Harry's eye momentarily distracted him. Instead of leaving the kitchen, he turned towards the table, where all of those pictures were still strewn across its surface. A quick glance told Harry that most of them were of Dudley, in various stages of the boy's life. Birthdays, holidays, hanging out with friends...Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia appeared in some of the photos as well. There were even a few of Aunt Marge and her evil dog Ripper. But Harry didn't appear in a single one.

The boy sighed as he glanced down into one of the boxes that Petunia did not appear to have gone through yet. He suspected that this whole project likely had something to do with what Aunt Petunia had been going on and on about the last time she had come home from having tea with the neighbors. Apparently Mrs. Something or Other and Mrs. What's-her-name had been showing off a bunch of pictures of their children, and Aunt Petunia, upon searching through her purse, had realized that she did not have any of her own pictures of Dudley to share.

Harry doubted that she was going to allow _that _to happen again.

Shaking his head as he caught a glimpse of a particularly horrible picture of a two-year old Dudley throwing a temper tantrum, Harry was nearly ready to turn away from the box when he caught sight of the wooden edge of a picture frame at the very bottom, underneath several stacks of pictures.

Not exactly sure why he was so curious (it was probably just another picture of his cousin after all) Harry reached down into the box, and carefully extracted the frame from its place at the bottom of the pile, doing his best not to make a mess of his aunt's perfectly stacked photographs.

And when he finally held the small frame in his hands, Harry couldn't help but to let out a little gasp of surprise at the picture inside the frame.

It was a family portrait, although Vernon and Dudley were nowhere to be seen. Aunt Petunia was there though. A much younger Petunia. She was probably no more than ten years of age, but Harry knew it was her. She had the same long neck and pointed nose as her adult counterpart had, although her eyes weren't nearly so narrow and menacing in the picture. It was strange to see her like this.

Harry's gaze didn't linger too long on his aunt, however. He quickly moved on to the other occupants in the frame. There was a man and a woman, his _grandparents_ he realized, and before he could study them any further, his eyes quickly found the young girl on their other side. A red-haired girl with green eyes exactly like his own.

His mother.

Without another thought, Harry tore out of the kitchen, the picture clutched firmly against his chest, and ran up the stairs, his head spinning with dizziness from his lack of proper food. He was not about to let the Dursleys catch him with this picture. They would surely take it from him, probably burn it or tear it to shreds just because his mother was in it. How the portrait had managed to survive until now was a mystery, but Harry was not going to let anything happen to it.

He heard the front door open just as he crossed the threshold of his bedroom, and a second later, Uncle Vernon was yelling up the stairs.

"Boy! Get down here now! We have some _things _to go over before the Masons arrive!"

Harry sighed. He had almost forgotten about the Masons. He quickly shoved the picture frame under his pillow and left his room again, slowly making his way back down the stairs.

He supposed the night couldn't be _too _bad. He was likely just going to be spending the evening in his room, which, at the very least, meant that the Dursleys would be leaving him alone.

The more he thought about it, the more appealing the idea became, and he had to be sure to wipe the smile off his face as he met his aunt and uncle in the living room.

"Now Dudley will be home in a few minutes," Aunt Petunia was saying to Vernon. "I want the boy to be upstairs before then. You know how upset Dudley gets when he sees him these days."

Harry _really _had to fight hard not to smile, then. He didn't even have to deal with Dudley for the rest of the day?

It was _definitely_ going to be a good night.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Alright guys, first chapter done. So what do you think? I love getting feedback. Any and all reviews are greatly appreciated.**

**-Ailee17**


	2. Shattered

**A/N: So here's Chapter 2, at 4:30 AM (EST). I just couldn't stop writing until it was done. Enjoy!**

**WARNING: There is some child abuse in this chapter.**

**Also, I neglected to say in Chapter 1 that I do not own Harry Potter, so yeah...I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

><p>It was one of the worst nights Harry could remember having in the Dursley household.<p>

It started out well enough, of course. At Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia's prompting, Harry fled up the stairs and disappeared into his room. As soon as the door closed behind him with a snap, he went straight to his pillow to retrieve the picture frame he had stored there, his severe hunger of earlier nearly forgotten.

And then, sitting on his bed, his back resting against the wall, Harry stared longingly down at the portrait in his hands.

His mother stared back at him, her eyes vibrant and full of life, a wide smile lighting up her face as she leaned into the embrace her father was holding her in. She seemed so _happy._ So care-free. The little girl in the picture had no idea what was going to happen to her.

Harry closed his eyes, forcing back the lump in his throat that formed at that thought and taking a deep breath. After a few seconds, he opened them again, his gaze returning to the picture. His mother was still smiling, unmoving in the muggle photograph. She was frozen in time, forever smiling, forever happy.

It was exactly how Harry wanted to think of his mother.

He continued to stare at the picture for quite some time then, until long after he heard the Masons arrive and everybody move into the sitting room. At some point, he slid off his bed to retrieve the photo album of his parents that Hagrid had given him last year. He had hidden it beneath the loose floorboard under the bed, to ensure that the Dursleys would not find it.

Harry felt a pang at the thought of Hagrid. He had hoped that the half-giant, or any of his friends for that matter, would have written to him by now. Even just a quick note to say Happy Birthday. He was, after all, twelve years old that very day.

But it was to be a birthday like any other, he supposed. Brushed aside, completely ignored. He himself had only just given the special date any thought at all.

At least he still had Hedwig, though, he realized, turning towards the owl who seemed to be the only friend that he had in the world at that moment. Only she was currently asleep in her padlocked cage. Harry just shook his head, deciding not to disturb the creature, and turned back to his album.

His mother and father smiled up at him, waving enthusiastically as only those in wizarding pictures can. He couldn't help but to smile back at them, as he settled back down on the bed. Perhaps this wouldn't be his _worst _birthday ever. Not if he could spend the evening looking at old pictures of his parents in peace.

* * *

><p>Unfortunately, it was not to be.<p>

Later, Harry would blame himself for the way he handled things when Dobby showed up that night to warn him about "plots" and "terrible things" happening at Hogwarts. He should have just gone along with the house-elf, and tried to convince him that he had no intentions of going back to school, despite that being a complete lie.

But of course he hadn't. And then the elf had had Aunt Petunia's pudding suspended in midair...

* * *

><p>Harry stood there in the kitchen, completely still and unmoving, and gulped as he looked into his uncle's eyes. There seemed to be a promise in those eyes. A promise of murder or perhaps something worse.<p>

He could hear Aunt Petunia in the next room, attempting to smooth things over with the Masons with placating words and the ice cream she had dug out of the freezer. In the next second, Uncle Vernon was thrusting a mop into his nephew's hands, causing Harry to flinch back. He had been certain that the man was going to beat him with it.

"Clean this up," the man practically hissed, bringing his face to within an inch of Harry's own. "You will be receiving your punishment later."

"Yes, sir," Harry whispered automatically, clutching the mop handle for dear life.

Uncle Vernon straightened up then, and turned to leave the kitchen. He turned back, however, just before he was completely out of the room.

"You best hope that this deal goes through, _boy..._ because if it doesn't..."

The man left the threat hanging in the air as he finally left his nephew alone.

Harry felt numb. His stomach churned with fear, and it was several seconds before he was able to move again. He looked around at the mess surrounding him, and felt himself start to panic.

His uncle was going to _kill _him.

And there was nothing he could do about it, except to clean the kitchen as best as he could, and hope that Uncle Vernon's business deal still went through.

* * *

><p>When the owl arrived, dropping the letter on Mrs. Mason's head, Harry knew that it was all over with. He might as well grab a shovel and go dig his own grave in the backyard.<p>

Soon after the Masons' hasty departure, Harry found a piece of parchment being shoved under his nose. It was a moment before he was able to focus his eyes enough to read the short warning message from the Ministry on underage magic. But by the time he reached the part in the letter that told him to enjoy his holidays, all the color had drained from his face.

Vernon tore the parchment away from Harry before speaking in a deadly whisper.

"Upstairs..._now_."

Terrified, Harry scurried out of the room and up the stairs, knowing that disobedience would only make things worse. His uncle followed, only a few steps behind.

Harry felt a sense of dread as he opened his bedroom door. His heart began to pound against his rib cage, and his breaths began coming in short, rapid gasps.

And then he heard the door close behind him.

He whirled around, and in the next second, his uncle was grabbing him and pushing him up against the nearest wall. He held tightly to Harry's arms, hard enough to bruise, eliciting a small whimper of pain from his nephew at the action.

"You ruined _everything_!" the man shouted. "That was the most important deal of my career—"

"I didn't do anything, I swear," Harry said desperately, just as Hedwig let out an alarmed screech from her cage. "Please, Uncle Vernon—"

"You _liar_!" Vernon hissed, pulling Harry away from the wall, only to slam him back into it a second later.

Harry gasped for breath. "No, please. I'm not—"

"You're lying through your teeth," Uncle Vernon interrupted, shaking Harry roughly as he spoke. "And you will be severely punished for it."

There was a pause then, as though Vernon needed time to consider what he was going to do with Harry, although the boy was already fairly certain of what was going to happen. In the corner, Hedwig continued to emit low screeches of fear, but neither of the two other occupants in the room seemed to hear her.

The man loosened his grip ever so slightly on his nephew's arms. "Go get my belt," he whispered at last.

Harry immediately began to tremble. "No, please. I'll be good, Uncle Vernon. I promise."

"Now!" the man's voice returned to a shout.

Harry moved away from the wall and hurried from his room, quickly making his way down the hall to where his aunt and uncle slept.

The master bedroom was empty. Aunt Petunia was still downstairs with Dudley, where the two of them would likely stay until his "punishment" was over. He crossed the room on shaking legs, and opened the top drawer of the dresser on the far side of the room where Uncle Vernon kept his belt.

Knowing that his uncle would only get angrier if he took too long, Harry snatched up the belt, and rushed back to his own room, just hoping that this would all be over soon.

But what he saw when he reached the doorway made him freeze in his tracks.

Uncle Vernon was standing by his bed. And he was holding Harry's photo album in his hands.

Harry closed his eyes. There was absolutely no way that this day could possibly get any worse.

He had been in such a hurry to run after Dobby that he had given no thought to returning the album to its hiding place. He had simply left it on top of his bed, and now Vernon had found it.

"And what," Uncle Vernon began menacingly, "is this?"He held up the book with a look of disgust after having flipped through a few of its pages.

"It's my photo album," Harry said, the panic clear in his voice as he opened his eyes once again. "Please, sir. It's all I have left of my parents—"

"Those _freaks," _Vernon sneered, opening the book again and pulling out one of the pictures. It was one of Lily and James together, and even from where he stood at the door, Harry could see that they were smiling and waving.

Vernon grimaced at the unnaturalness of the moving picture. Then he placed the photo album, still open, back on the bed, and began taking out more pictures, turning through the pages until he had a fair few clutched in his hands.

Harry opened his mouth to plead with his uncle not to do anything, but it was too late.

Without further warning, Uncle Vernon began tearing the pictures to shreds, and Harry, too shocked to speak or to move or to do _anything, _could only watch in absolute horror.

It was worse than the belt. Unimaginably worse. The pain of it was like a knife to the heart.

And Uncle Vernon knew it. He continued to tear the pictures apart until they were nothing more than tiny little scraps strewn across the floor. And then he reached for the photo album again.

And Harry sprang into action. He dropped the belt and ran to the bed, trying to snatch the book away before his uncle could get to it.

But he just wasn't quick enough. Uncle Vernon grabbed the book and tucked it under an arm.

"You know, I believe I've changed my mind," the man said in a falsely gentle tone, grabbing Harry by the arm. "The belt can wait until tomorrow. I'll let you think about it for a while. But for now, I think I'll just take this _filth _and be on my way."

In one final effort, Harry lunged for the book as he felt a sense of desperation course through him.

But Uncle Vernon caught him by the arm once again, and shoved Harry away with such force, that Harry fell to the ground. His head hit hard against the front of his bedside table, and in the next instant the lamp that sat on top of it was falling to the floor, where it shattered into pieces.

Uncle Vernon ignored the incident and continued towards the door, pausing only to pick up the belt that Harry had dropped at the threshold. "Tomorrow, there will be new locks going on this door," he stated with a sneer. "You will not be leaving this room. And you will _not _be returning to that school."

Without waiting for a response, or any other indication that he had been heard, Uncle Vernon finally took his leave, slamming the door behind him.

And only then did Harry finally let the tears fall.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thoughts? Thank you so much for reading, everyone. Hopefully I'll have another update out soon.**

**-Ailee17**


	3. Discovery

**A/N: Thank you all so much for all of the follows/favorites that this story has gotten so far, and a special thank you to all of those who left reviews. They never fail to make me smile. Enjoy Chapter 3!**

* * *

><p>It was a while before Harry moved off of the floor. He didn't want to give his uncle any reason to come back, and even the smallest of noises would likely be enough to set the man off that night.<p>

He waited until long after he heard all of the Dursleys enter their bedrooms, and the faint sound of snoring reached him from down the hall, indicating that Uncle Vernon was fast asleep.

And then slowly, carefully, Harry pulled himself up, using the bed for assistance. He took one quick glance around the room, and then sank down onto his mattress.

Once seated, he reached back to feel the tender spot on the back of his head where he had banged it against the side table. He let out a small hiss of pain and then dropped his hand once more. It would heal soon enough.

But what his uncle had done...what he had taken and destroyed...

Harry felt as though a hole had been ripped open in his chest.

He used a hand to swipe at the tears in his eyes and on his cheeks. He hated Uncle Vernon. He _hated _him. He would never be able to forgive the man for what he had done.

Harry knew he needed to leave.

The problem was, of course, that his wand and the rest of his school stuff were locked up in the cupboard under the stairs. And there was no way he was leaving them behind.

The thought of his wand filled Harry with a sense of longing. He would love nothing more than to burst into his aunt and uncle's bedroom just then and curse Uncle Vernon into oblivion.

Harry took several deep breaths, then. He needed to calm down.

He allowed his eyes to roam around the room as he focused on returning his heart rate to normal. Everything was quiet and still. It seemed _wrong _somehow, after all that had transpired in the last few hours.

Harry's gaze swept across the floor, seeking out the pieces of his parents' pictures that Uncle Vernon had torn up. Perhaps if he could collect them all...he could fix them with a spell later. As soon as he got out of this place.

In the next second, Harry was on his hands and knees, crawling across the hard wooden floor, as he picked up each and every tiny scrap of photograph he could find.

* * *

><p>It was some time later that Harry finally stood up off the floor, eventually satisfied that he had gotten every piece. He had found a small bag under his floorboard, which was perfect for holding the scraps. Now all he needed was to get a hold of his wand, and his photographs would be good as new.<p>

At least the ones he had with him. Who knew what Uncle Vernon had done with the rest of the photo album? Harry let out a sigh. He knew he couldn't worry too much about it now. All of his focus had to be on escaping from the Dursley household.

Harry looked over at Hedwig, who was currently staring silently back at him. "I'll get us out of here, girl," he said quietly. "And as soon as I have my wand back, I'll be able to unlock that cage."

Hedwig made a displeased sound, probably unhappy to hear that she would continue to be trapped in her cage for a while longer.

"I know, girl." Harry said in a whisper. "But we'll get out of here. You'll see."

Harry looked over at his bedroom door, then. If what Uncle Vernon had said was true, and there were locks going on his door tomorrow...Then tonight just might be his only chance at escape.

A minute passed as Harry began running through his options in his head. He focused his eyes on the lock on Hedwig's cage, waiting for inspiration to strike.

And eventually, it did.

Harry moved over to the small desk in the corner and began rummaging through the contents spread out over its surface. Most of the items were things left over from when the place had still been Dudley's second bedroom. Broken toys and old, dusty books that had never been opened. But there was only one thing that interested Harry, and he snatched it up triumphantly as soon as his eyes found it.

It was a large paperclip.

Harry wasn't exactly sure when or why Dudley had ever had the need for a paperclip. But it had been lying on top of the desk ever since he had moved in, and now, it just might prove to be useful.

Harry began working with the clip, unbending it until all he held was a long strip of metal in his hand.

"See?" Harry said, waving his new tool in front of Hedwig, who hardly seemed impressed. "Now I can pick the lock of the cupboard under the stairs, and maybe even your cage, and we can get out of here. I'll be back in a minute."

Hedwig simply stared then as Harry turned around and headed for his bedroom door. He opened it cautiously, not wanting to wake any of the Dursleys from their sleep. And then he was gone, hurrying down the hallway and then the stairs, his bedroom door closing tightly behind him.

* * *

><p>Harry yanked and tugged at the lock in frustration. He had spent nearly a full five minutes at the cupboard under the stairs, twisting the unbent paperclip around and around inside the lock on the door, to no avail.<p>

He couldn't leave. Not without his belongings. Not without his wand, at the very least.

Harry groaned, resting his forehead against the cupboard door. There had to be another way inside. If only he knew where Uncle Vernon kept the key...

Harry's thoughts were interrupted then when a coughing fit broke out somewhere up on the second floor, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. He listened for a minute as the noise died down, straining to hear any sign of his aunt and uncle's bedroom door opening.

When none came, Harry began climbing the stairs again, deciding that he would be much better off devising a new plan in his room, rather than risk getting caught out of bed.

* * *

><p>His hand had barely brushed against the doorknob of his room when a voice broke the silence in the house.<p>

"What are you doing?"

Harry flinched, not even bothering to turn at the sound of his aunt's voice.

"You were downstairs," Petunia hissed. "Why?"

Harry thought desperately for something to say, but nothing was coming to mind.

"Were you eating our food?" the woman demanded.

Harry shook his head. "No, I was—"

"Thinking of running away, perhaps?" Petunia said knowingly. "It wouldn't do you any good."

Harry couldn't help but to turn his head at that.

"They'd only send you back," his aunt continued viciously. "If not right away, then next summer. And then Vernon would be even more upset than he is now."

Anger flared up inside of Harry at the mention of Uncle Vernon.

"And what do you suppose _they _will do when I don't show up to school on the first of September?" he finally shot back.

Petunia's eyes narrowed. "Why you little—"

"Perhaps _they _will show up at the door, wondering what's going on," Harry interrupted. "Imagine what the neighbors will say when they _see_ _them._ Imagine what _they _will think when—"

"That's enough." Petunia stated firmly. Then she pointed a finger at Harry as she spoke her next words. "You are going to behave yourself for the rest of the summer. You are going to stay in your room, and keep quiet."

"And school?" Harry couldn't help asking.

"What have your uncle and I said about questions?" Petunia returned. She then pointed at his bedroom door. "In. If I catch you out again tonight, I will wake Vernon."

Hardly able to believe that he was getting off with just a warning, Harry gave a quick nod and then slid into his room, closing the door behind him before Aunt Petunia could have the chance to change her mind about getting Uncle Vernon.

Hedwig gave a soft hoot in greeting, and Harry sighed as he crossed the floor to meet her.

"Sorry, girl. It looks like we're going to be stuck here for a little while."

The owl wore a look that plainly said _"Well _I_ could have told you that."_

Harry gave his familiar a half-hearted smile and then turned towards his bed. Aunt Petunia had been right. He probably _would _be sent back to the Dursleys if he ended up running away. Where else could he go, really? Who else would take him in?

His only hope now was that the thought of anyone from the wizarding world showing up on Privet Drive to check up on his whereabouts would be enough to persuade the Dursleys to let him go back to school.

He let out another sigh then, as his thoughts began to race. Would they really come looking for him if he didn't show up on the train or at the welcoming feast? Harry couldn't be sure. He'd like to think that _someone_ would, but maybe they wouldn't. Maybe they just wouldn't care.

Harry shook his head. He couldn't think like that. He looked down at the floor, where the broken lamp still laid in pieces. It was then that Harry remembered.

The picture frame.

His gaze turned to the side table. He was almost certain that he had set the picture down there when Dobby had shown up. But it wasn't there now.

For one horrible moment, Harry thought that maybe Uncle Vernon had found that picture, too. But he couldn't have. He hadn't left the room with a picture frame in his hand.

Besides, if the lamp had fallen off the table when Harry had been thrown into it, then perhaps the picture frame had, too.

Without wasting any time, Harry pulled the side table out and away from the wall, and peered behind it.

And there was the picture frame, resting against the wall. Harry could have laughed in relief. Somehow, his uncle had overlooked it.

Harry frowned as he gathered the frame into his hands and noticed that the glass was now cracked, making it slightly difficult to see his mother's face.

He sat down on the bed, turning the frame over so that he could remove the back and take the picture out. His fingers slid the tiny latches out of the way, and then he pulled the back away.

Harry froze.

He had only expected to see the back of the Evans family portrait.

Instead, there was another picture entirely inside the frame.

Harry let out a small gasp, because there his mother was again, smiling up at him, probably about the same age as she was in the portrait on the other side of the frame. She was outside now, under a large tree, and there was only one other occupant of this picture.

A young, skinny boy with black hair and a long nose was also smiling, only rather than looking up at the camera, he was staring at Lily.

Harry's brow wrinkled in confusion. He felt as though he knew this person, but he couldn't possibly. This was just an old childhood friend of his mother's.

And yet, the boy's features seemed so familiar. The dark eyes...the sallow skin...

Harry carefully lifted the picture out of the frame, and stared. A few seconds passed, and then Harry turned the picture over.

And his heart nearly stopped.

For across the back of the old photograph, someone had scrawled the names of the two children in the picture. And Harry could hardly believe his eyes.

How was this possible? The words simply couldn't be true. He somehow wasn't reading them right.

But no matter how many times Harry read the names, his eyes darting back and forth across the back of the photograph, they remained very much the same.

"Lily and Severus," he finally whispered into the darkness.

Harry thought he might go into shock.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thoughts? Thanks again for reading everybody!**

**-Ailee17**


	4. Summer's End

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting this out, guys. A _lot _is happening in my life right now (all good, I assure you), and so this chapter was pretty much written a few sentences at a time over the last 3 weeks. But it's finally done, so I hope you all enjoy it!**

**Also, a big thank you to everyone who has followed/favorited/reviewed or simply just read my story so far. I am amazed at the amount of support this story has already received, and we haven't even gotten to the good part yet :) **

* * *

><p>If nothing else, Uncle Vernon was a man of his word. The following day, there were new locks installed on Harry's bedroom door, along with a cat flap so that Aunt Petunia would be able to push meals through from time to time.<p>

And if that wasn't enough to make Harry feel like he was being kept in a high-security prison cell, Uncle Vernon had then come up with the brilliant idea of installing bars on his window. He had been positively _giddy _when the man he had hired to do the job showed up at the door.

And in Harry's opinion, there was nothing more terrifying than a giddy Uncle Vernon.

He was proved right when, later that day, Uncle Vernon kept his other promise to Harry, and finished delivering the rest of his "punishment" for the incident with the Masons.

The man's taunts and jeers and cutting words had almost been worse than the sting of the belt. But it still didn't come close to how it had felt to see his pictures torn up before his very eyes.

No, nothing could even come close to that pain.

The young wizard winced as he shifted around on his bed, his back feeling as though it were on fire. His fingers closed once again around the one photograph that he hadn't let out of his sight since Uncle Vernon had left the room. The one that contained two young children. His mother and a childhood friend.

His mother and _Snape._

He still hadn't quite been able to wrap his head around this new piece of knowledge. His mother and Snape had been _friends?_

How?

When?

_Why?_

Harry stared and stared at the photograph, searching desperately for answers that he knew he may never get. None of this made any _sense. _

He doubted it ever would.

* * *

><p>It was some time later that Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of something being pushed through the cat flap. He caught a quick glance of Aunt Petunia's hand before it disappeared again, leaving behind a bowl of soup.<p>

Harry didn't immediately move from his spot on the bed. It was still so soon after Uncle Vernon's punishment, and moving just hurt too much.

But after a few silent minutes passed, Harry glanced over at the cage where Hedwig was still locked up, even more trapped than he currently was, and knew that he needed to get some food to his familiar.

Harry slowly got to his feet, lifting himself carefully off of his mattress. He crossed the room, gritting his teeth the entire way, determined not to allow any sounds of pain to escape past his lips. Even if Hedwig was the only one around to hear it.

Eventually, he managed to scoop the bowl of soup up from the floor, although bending over to do so proved to be quite agonizing. Hedwig made several low screeching noises as her owner moved towards her cage, then. Harry wondered if the bird's sounds were out of concern for him, or if she was just hungry. He feared she may be disappointed with what he had to offer her.

He raised the bowl to his own lips first, and forced himself to gulp down the stone cold broth. He knew it would do him no good to turn his nose up at it.

"Here, girl. You can have the vegetables," Harry said when he was done. He tipped the soggy remnants of the soup into Hedwig's food dish, and watched as his familiar turned her head away in obvious disgust.

"Yeah, well, it's all we have right now. So we're both just going to have to get used to it," Harry said firmly.

Hedwig continued to ignore him.

Harry sighed. "I really am sorry, Hedwig. You shouldn't have to be stuck here with me."

Hedwig tilted her head slightly to the side, listening.

"But it won't be long until school starts," Harry continued. "My aunt and uncle just _have to _let us out then."

The young boy turned away then, heading back towards his bed.

But just before he was about to lower himself onto the mattress, another sound came from Hedwig's cage. A soft, hooting noise that sent a wave of reassurance through Harry's entire body.

And in the next moment, the owl reluctantly began to eat.

* * *

><p>As the days passed, and the Dursleys showed no sign of changing their minds about keeping Harry locked up in his tiny bedroom, the young wizard found himself doing a lot of thinking.<p>

He thought about Hogwarts, and all of his friends. He wondered how Ron and Hermione were doing, and if they ever thought about him at all. And he thought about how his summer had gone before Dobby had had to show up and ruin everything. It had definitely been miserable, but it had been a hundred times better than this.

Harry shook his head as his mind wandered down that avenue. He didn't like to think much about his current situation. It was far too depressing.

But he supposed it was better than thinking about the picture.

The picture that could quite possibly drive him insane.

The mystery that surrounded his mother and Snape had only gotten more and more frustrating with each passing day that Harry could think of no explanation for the photograph he'd found.

He wasn't even sure what he should _do _with the information. Assuming he ever got back to Hogwarts, should he show the picture to anyone? Ron and Hermione? What would they say? What would they _think?_

Harry wasn't sure he wanted to think about that just now.

The boy groaned and rolled over onto his side so that he was facing the wall. The pain in his back had faded away to nothing more than a dull ache a couple of days ago. He had healed fairly quickly, just like always.

And summer would be over soon enough.

* * *

><p>It was the final week of the summer holidays when Harry was finally allowed out of his room for something other than the use of the toilet.<p>

Chores.

A _lot _of chores.

Harry cleaned the entire house from top to bottom every single day that week. He swept and mopped and vacuumed the floors. He scrubbed the dishes and wiped down every surface of furniture until not a single speck of dirt or particle of dust remained.

And then there was the outside work. He mowed the lawn and pruned the hedges and tended to Aunt Petunia's garden in the blistering August heat.

And now, on the very last day before school was supposed to start, he was cleaning up the shed in the backyard.

Harry found himself wishing that he could have just been left alone in his bedroom upstairs.

He wiped the sweat from his brow as he tried to figure out how exactly he was going to organize all of the tools and gardening equipment so that the Dursleys would be satisfied.

He didn't have much time to figure it out either. Uncle Vernon would be home from work soon, and Harry was supposed to be done with his chores and back in his room by the time that happened.

But today he would need to talk to Aunt Petunia about going back to school tomorrow.

It was a conversation he was not looking forward to.

"So are you going back to that _freak _school?" a voice startled Harry out of his thoughts.

Turning around, the young wizard saw Dudley standing just outside the shed, staring in at him with a nasty smile on his face, a bag of sweets, as always, clutched securely in one hand.

Harry just shrugged. Dudley wasn't very frightening when he wasn't surrounded by his gang of friends. "Yep," he replied. "It'll sure be better than being stuck here all year."

And with that, Harry brushed past his cousin, deciding that he wanted to get the conversation with Aunt Petunia over with sooner rather than later.

But then Harry's arm was suddenly being held in a death grip as Dudley grabbed him before he could make it more than a few paces away from the shed.

"You're a _liar." _Dudley hissed. "Dad said you're not going back. He won't allow it."

"Shows how much you know, doesn't it?" Harry retorted, yanking his arm out of the larger boy's grasp. Then he continued walking back towards the house.

"I know more than you think I do," Dudley called after him.

Harry ignored him.

"Never mind, then," Dudley continued. "I just thought you'd like to know what happened to that stupid photo album Dad took from your room."

Harry froze in his tracks, both of his hands immediately balling up into fists at his sides.

Dudley smirked and took a few steps closer to his cousin, until he was standing directly behind Harry.

"It must have been important to you," the boy continued with his taunting. "Too bad it's gone now."

"You're lying," Harry said, still frozen in place.

Dudley's smile grew wider as he stared at the back of Harry's head. "No, I'm not. I _saw _Dad do it. I _saw _him throw it into the fireplace-"

At those words, Harry couldn't hold back. He whipped around and blindly threw a good hard punch in the direction of Dudley's face.

He then stood impossibly still, completely in shock, as he watched his oversized cousin bring one of his large hands up to his face, his eyes wide in surprise.

A second later, Dudley moved his hand away again, and Harry was able to see the blood smeared across his cousin's fingers and trickling out of his nose.

There was nothing but silence between them then, each one of the boys just staring at the other.

And then Dudley found his voice.

"Mum!" he practically screamed.

Harry snapped out of his trance then, and turned towards the house, breaking into a run when he heard Dudley following him.

He flew through the kitchen, nearly running right into his Aunt Petunia, who shrieked in protest, and then in anger as she saw the state of her son.

But Harry didn't care. He ran into the sitting room, and went straight for the fireplace.

He knew he wouldn't find anything. He had cleaned this fireplace several times already over the last few days. It was cleaner than it had ever been before.

Which meant that if Uncle Vernon really _had _burned his picture album, then they were really, truly gone. All of those photographs, all of those snapshots of his parents, alive and happy, were gone.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there, just staring into the empty fireplace. He just knew that it wasn't until Aunt Petunia stormed into the room, yelling and screeching and shouting, that he finally broke out of his daze and turned to face her.

"How _dare_ you?!" she was practically screaming. "How _dare _you hit my son?!"

And suddenly Harry was angry. Completely ignoring his aunt's question, he opened his mouth to speak. "I am _leaving _tomorrow," he stated firmly. He was through with asking permission.

"_What _did you just say?" Petunia hissed.

"I _said _that I am leaving for school tomorrow," Harry refused to back down. "And unless you want a very powerful witch or wizard standing at your doorstep, you _won't _try to stop me."

Aunt Petunia took a few steps forward until she was standing directly in front of her nephew. Then, quick as a snake, she reached down and slapped Harry hard across the face. The young boy's hand immediately went to his stinging cheek as he finally broke eye contact with his aunt.

"Fine," the woman said. "I'll have Vernon give you a ride to the train station tomorrow morning."

Harry's brow furrowed in confusion. That was it? She was just going to let him go?

"_But," _Aunt Petunia continued nastily. "After that, you are no longer welcome in this house. I never want to see you back here again, summer holidays or otherwise. I am finished with you. I will _not _allow you to hurt Dudley again, or to intrude on my family any longer. Are we clear?"

Harry couldn't quite identify the emotion that was taking over his body at that moment. He felt sick, empty, _betrayed._

But that couldn't be right, could it? He _hated _the Dursleys. And they hated _him._ How could he possibly feel _betrayed _at his aunt's words? That didn't make any sense.

"Are we _clear?"_ Petunia repeated, as she continued to glare down her nose at Harry.

All the boy could do was nod numbly, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Then get upstairs," Petunia said dismissively. "And wait for your uncle to get home."

Harry left the room as quickly as he could and headed up to his bedroom.

Hedwig greeted him softly when he entered, and Harry headed straight for her cage.

"We're finally getting out of here, girl," he said quietly, reaching through the bars of his owl's cage so that he could stroke her feathers. "I told you we would, didn't I?"

Hedwig seemed to sense that not all was well with her master, though, for she let out another soft hoot and nudged at Harry's fingers.

The young wizard sighed. "I'm in trouble with the Dursleys again," he confided in his familiar. "I'm sure Uncle Vernon is going to be _really _mad at me when he gets home."

Harry thought that Hedwig looked rather concerned at that bit of news. So he decided to plaster a smile onto his face in the hopes of cheering them both up.

"But, at least we get to go back to Hogwarts tomorrow," he said, continuing to stroke his owl.

Hedwig tilted her head to the side in response, and suddenly Harry's smile turned genuine, if only for a moment.

"Yep. Tomorrow, girl, we get to go home."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Thanks for reading everyone! I'll try to have the next chapter up as soon as possible, although I will be out of town for a couple days and so likely won't be able to work on this until I get back. (It shouldn't be too long, I promise.)**

**-Ailee17**


	5. On the Train

**A/N: Alright, here it is guys. Chapter 5! It's a long one, and it took a while to write. I just hope I did okay with all of the characters. Let me know what you think!**

* * *

><p>Harry sat still as a statue in the backseat of his uncle's car as Vernon sped through the streets, getting closer and closer to King's Cross station. The boy unconsciously tightened his grip on the sides of Hedwig's cage as he stared resolutely out the window, trying his best to think only of Hogwarts and his friends. He couldn't wait to get back to the wizarding world. The summer holiday had been far too long.<p>

Only now, he had no home to come back to next year. Aunt Petunia had made that abundantly clear yesterday. And Uncle Vernon had wholeheartedly agreed as soon as he had arrived home to discover that Harry had "viciously attacked" his son.

Harry winced as the car went over a bump in the road, jolting his body in the process. Uncle Vernon hadn't held back last night when he delivered Harry's punishment. He never did when it came to Dudley. Harry was just thankful he could walk today, despite the pain in his back. He suspected that his magic probably had something to do with that.

The silence in the car was deafening. Harry could almost _feel _his uncle's angry eyes watching him through the rear view mirror, and he had to suppress a shudder as he determinedly kept his gaze focused on the window. Just a few more minutes and they would be at the train station.

But it felt like hours to Harry.

What if his uncle had something else planned for him? Maybe Vernon wasn't going to take him to the train station at all. Maybe the man was going to dump him off in some darkened alleyway where he would starve to death or die of cold or—

"Out!" the booming voice sliced through the silence of the car, causing Harry to flinch as his thoughts were interrupted.

The car had come to a stop without Harry realizing it. And when his eyes were finally able to register what he was seeing through the car window, there was King's Cross Station. He wasn't going to have to fend for himself out on the streets after all.

"I said OUT!" Uncle Vernon shouted, flinging his own door open.

Harry quickly unbuckled his seat belt and slid out of the car. He then reached back inside to retrieve Hedwig, making sure that the owl's cage was balanced securely in his arms. And by the time the young wizard had accomplished this task and managed to close the door behind him, Uncle Vernon had already unloaded Harry's trunk onto the curb and was slamming the boot of the car closed.

And then, without so much as a backward glance at his nephew, Uncle Vernon got back into the car.

Within seconds, he was gone.

And Harry was alone.

* * *

><p>Harry made his way to Platform 9 ¾ as quickly as he could, trying his best not to call too much attention to himself, although Hedwig always drew a few stares. He ignored the pain in his back as he pushed his luggage along on the trolley and was relieved when he finally reached the wall between Platforms 9 and 10. He didn't even hesitate this year. He passed through the portal without batting an eye.<p>

Within seconds, the Hogwarts Express loomed before him. Harry felt a small sense of relief wash over him as he finally saw it. It was nice to be back in the wizarding world, surrounded by magic. He could feel it practically vibrating in the air.

"So what do you think, girl? Should we get you out of that cage?" Harry said, glancing down at his owl.

Hedwig gave a hoot of approval, and Harry moved around the trolley so he could retrieve his wand from his trunk.

* * *

><p>It was early. Very few witches and wizards had already arrived on the platform. There was no sign of Hermione or the Weasleys yet, and for that, Harry was grateful. He knew he was going to get bombarded with questions about the summer, and why he hadn't written or responded to any of their letters. He wasn't sure he was ready for all that just yet. He wanted some time to get settled first.<p>

He moved through the train, one arm pulling his trunk along behind him, while Hedwig's empty cage was tucked carefully under the other. Harry couldn't even begin to express how grateful he was that his familiar was finally able to stretch her wings. He couldn't remember the last time his owl had seemed so happy. He only wished that his own spirits could be as high.

Harry sighed as he entered an empty compartment at the back of the train and dropped into a seat near the window. He thought he would be happier, more excited, to go back to school. But after everything that had happened at the Dursleys'...

Harry had never felt more alone.

The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out the old photograph. The one with his mother and Snape. He shook his head once more at the bizarreness of it all.

_His mother _had been friends with _Snape._

_ Snape _had been friends with _his mother_.

And once again, he allowed himself to think on that situation for a little while.

It was certainly easier to think about than the fact that he was now homeless, and would have nowhere to go when next summer came around. Or that despite being the famous "Boy-Who-Lived", he was essentially unwanted and undesirable.

Harry shook his head and focused his eyes back on the picture. He looked at his mother, beaming up at him, the happiness and excitement clear in her smile and in her eyes.

Harry shoved the picture back in his pocket after a minute. Somehow it was difficult to look at just now. But he still kept his hand clutched tightly around his small treasure and the little bit of comfort it offered him. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

And finally, his exhaustion caught up with him.

* * *

><p>"Harry? Harry!"<p>

Harry mumbled a few incoherent words as he blinked his eyes open.

"Harry?" the voice repeated, as whoever it was gently put a hand on Harry's shoulder.

Harry blinked a few more times before finally recognizing the girl with the long bushy hair.

"Hermione!" he said, sitting up straighter and offering his friend a smile.

Hermione frowned as she took in the appearance of the boy sitting before her. "Harry, are you alright? You look exhausted."

Harry shrugged. "I didn't sleep well last night."

Hermione just stared at him for a minute more, causing Harry to feel extremely uncomfortable.

"Is there something wrong?" Harry asked at last.

"Is there something _wrong_?" Hermione repeated in disbelief. "Harry! We've all been terribly worried!"

"Who?"

"The Weasleys and myself, of course! You wouldn't respond to any of our letters! We thought something might have happened to you! And then that warning from the Ministry! You _know better _than to do magic outside of school, Harry!"

"How did you—?"

"Mr. Weasley works for the Ministry."

"The Weasleys. Are they here yet?"

"No. Not yet. Now if you would kindly explain—"

"It wasn't my fault. Honest. There was this house elf and—"

"A house elf?"

"Yes. Now if you would kindly allow me to explain?"

Hermione motioned with a hand for Harry to continue.

And so the boy began telling his carefully edited story about Dobby the House Elf, and the night that the Masons came over for dinner.

* * *

><p>Hermione sat thoughtfully for a moment after Harry finished speaking. Uncomfortable, Harry turned to look out the window at the growing crowd of people finding their way onto the platform. There was still no sign of Ron or the many other members of his family.<p>

"What do you suppose he meant by all that?" the young witch finally broke the silence. "Terrible things happening at Hogwarts? Why would he feel the need to warn you specifically? Do you think this is just someone pulling a prank?"

Harry just shrugged as he turned back to his friend. "I don't know. I haven't really given it much thought."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "You haven't?"

Harry shook his head, and then turned away again. If he was being honest, he hadn't thought about Dobby in days. There were so many other things...the Dursleys...the picture...

Suddenly, Harry was on his feet and rummaging through his trunk, looking for the small bag that he had kept stored under his floorboard.

"What is it?" Hermione asked, watching Harry as he searched almost frantically through his belongings.

"Here it is," the boy said excitedly, pulling out the small plastic bag and dumping its contents onto one of the seats.

"What?" Hermione repeated.

"They're pictures of mine that got, well—"

"Torn to shreds?" Hermione said, eyes widening at the pile of scraps. "How—?"

"My Aunt Marge's dog, Ripper, got to them," Harry quickly invented. "But a simple repair charm should fix them, right?"

"I don't know," Hermione replied. "Pictures can be tricky, Harry. Are you sure you have all the pieces?"

Harry nodded. "I'm pretty sure."

"Then give it a try."

Harry nodded and pointed his wand at the pile of photograph pieces. "_Reparo."_

Nothing happened.

"_Reparo."_

Still, nothing.

"Come on," Harry said, shaking his wand in frustration.

"Are you visualizing what the pictures look like in your head?" Hermione asked. "It's a lot easier to repair a photograph if you know what it's supposed to look like. And if you're missing any pieces, it's going to be nearly impossi—"

"I _have _all the pieces," Harry interrupted. "I _know _I do."

Hermione sighed and took her own wand out. "Here. Let me give it a try."

Hermione tried five different repair charms before she was finally willing to concede defeat.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Harry. But since I don't really know what the pictures are supposed to look like—"

"It's fine," Harry said quickly, as he began sweeping the scraps back into the plastic bag, being exceedingly careful not to miss a single piece. "I'll just figure it out later."

"What were they pictures of?" Hermione asked, as she watched Harry carefully place the bag back in his trunk.

"My parents," Harry replied, closing the lid on his luggage and taking his seat once again.

"Oh," Hermione said, understanding dawning on her. "Oh, Harry. I'm sure we can—"

"It's fine, Hermione. But thanks."

A silence fell between them then, and Harry went back to watching the people on the platform.

All the while, he kept a hand clutched tightly around the photo in his pocket.

* * *

><p>The Weasleys were very nearly late in boarding the train. Harry and Hermione watched the group of five red-headed children running for the steam engine with their trolleys of luggage, their parents hurrying them along from behind. Harry recognized Ron and the twins in front of the group. And then there was Percy, who was dragging their younger sister along by the hand.<p>

They only just managed to climb aboard the train as the whistle began to blow.

And moments later, as the locomotive began to move, Harry and Hermione's compartment door slid open.

"Harry!" Ron, Fred, and George said in unison.

"Hey, guys," Harry answered with a quick wave.

"Sorry, we're late," Fred said, strolling into the compartment first. "It seems that _some _people in this family don't know how to pack properly. It caused a bit of a delay."

"_You _were the ones causing the delays!" Percy exclaimed from the corridor, exasperated, motioning to the twins with his hands. "Forgetting to pack your stupid little prank kits. I'm amazed Mum even let you go back for them."

"Ah, but _then _it was Ronnie who forgot something," George put in, taking the seat next to Fred.

"Was not! That was Ginny," Ron retorted.

"I wasn't leaving my diary behind," Ginny stated, then hid her face behind Percy with a squeak when she saw that Harry was looking at her.

"I don't have time for this," Percy declared, shaking his head. "Come, Ginny. Let's get you settled, and then I have duties to attend to."

"Yes, we certainly wouldn't want Perfect Prefect Percy to neglect any of his perfect prefect duties," Fred said sarcastically.

Percy threw the compartment door shut then, disappearing from view along with Ginny.

And immediately, all eyes turned to Harry.

"Alright, talk." Ron stated.

"Ronald!" Hermione admonished.

"What our brother _means _to say, Harry," George stepped in, "is that we would greatly appreciate it if you could tell us exactly what transpired this summer that would cause you to not write or reply to a single letter or invitation of ours."

"And what were you using magic for?" Ron put in.

"It's great to see you guys, too," Harry grumbled.

"Sorry, Harry," Ron said. "It's just, you really worried us, you know? Especially when we didn't hear from you. We were going to come rescue you and everything but—"

"We got caught." Fred finished.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Completely irresponsible," Hermione huffed, arms crossed.

Fred ignored her and continued speaking. "See, Dad's got this car."

"It's a flying car," George put in. "A Ford Anglia. He loves muggle stuff, see. And—"

"Well, we were going to use it to fly to your house and rescue you," Ron said.

"You what?" Harry said, in complete disbelief. He tried to imagine for a moment what would have happened if the Weasleys had shown up on Privet Drive. Would they have seen... _everything?_ He shook his head at the thought. That would have been very, _very _bad.

"You heard us," Fred said, clapping a hand on Harry's back.

Harry winced and stiffened as the pain in his back flared up at the contact. But thankfully, nobody seemed to notice.

"We wanted to get you out of there," George was saying. "We know life with the muggles probably isn't a picnic. If only Mum hadn't caught us out of bed..."

"She was none too pleased," Fred said shaking his head. "But anyway, you're here now. So tell us everything."

"There's not much to tell," Harry said, shrugging.

"Yes, there is," Hermione interjected. "Tell them about the house elf, Harry."

"House elf?" Ron asked.

"Yeah," Harry answered, as he carefully adjusted himself into a more comfortable position. "Dobby the House Elf."

* * *

><p>After Harry finished telling his story for the second time, the other occupants of the compartment spent a while pondering what Dobby could have meant by his warnings. Everyone seemed to agree with Hermione's theory that someone could just be playing a trick on Harry, and they spent quite some time trying to decide who could be responsible.<p>

"Definitely Malfoy," was all Ron had to say on the matter.

Thankfully, by the time lunch came around, the conversation had moved on to other topics. The twins left the compartment to go find Lee Jordan and some of their other friends, and then it was just Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Harry leaned his head back against the seat as he listened to his friends bicker about study schedules for the upcoming year.

"You're crazy!" Ron exclaimed in disbelief when Hermione handed him a sheet of paper on which she had already outlined a weekly schedule. "Look at this, Harry! Classes haven't even _started _yet!"

"Oh, don't be so dramatic, Ronald! Schedules help keep people _organized. _You would benefit immensely from one." And with that, Hermione stood up to retrieve some books and parchment from her trunk overhead.

"You can't seriously be starting _now?_" Ron asked incredulously.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I just want to look over a couple of my summer essays. I'm not sure I quite got my point across in McGonagall's, and I wanted to add another paragraph to Flitwick's."

Ron just shook his head. "You are absolutely mental, Hermione."

"Oh, so all of your homework is just _perfect_, is it?"

"It's good enough," Ron mumbled, shrugging.

Hermione gave another roll of her eyes before turning to Harry, who had remained silent up until this point.

"What about you, Harry? Did you get all of your work done?"

Harry slowly shook his head. Homework had been the absolute furthest thing from his mind until just now. The Dursleys hadn't allowed him access to his schoolbooks during the summer, and so he had had no way of completing his assignments.

And then after Dobby, he had completely forgotten about his schoolwork altogether.

"I don't have any of the new textbooks, either," Harry nearly whispered, looking down at the floor as that realization suddenly dawned on him.

"What?" Ron and Hermione said together.

"But didn't you get a book list in the post?" Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. "Dobby must have blocked it. Or the Dursleys..."

"Your aunt and uncle would have kept that from you?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know," Harry said quickly, turning away from his friends.

"You didn't get the chance to go to Diagon Alley at all?" Ron asked. "We tried to invite you to come along with—"

Hermione silenced Ron with a look. "He didn't _get _that letter, remember?"

"Oh, right."

"Don't worry, Harry. We can mail-order your textbooks as soon as we get to school," Hermione said. "We can just share books until they come in. And if you need any other supplies like parchment or—"

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry said gratefully. "I appreciate that."

Hermione smiled. "Yes, well, I suggest you spend some time today catching up on your homework. Professor Snape's essay is particularly difficult unless you've read all the supplemental materials he suggested at the end of last term..."

At the mention of Snape, a strange feeling settled in Harry's stomach that he couldn't quite identify. His thoughts jumped immediately to the picture in his pocket, and he wondered if he should show his friends what he had discovered this summer.

"That greasy git," Ron was saying. "Who reads the _supplemental materials?_ Isn't that supposed to be _optional _reading?"

Harry's fingers clenched briefly around the photograph before he withdrew his hand from his pocket. Perhaps now wasn't the time.

"And speaking of gits," Ron continued with his rant, "What in the world was Dumbledore thinking, hiring that lunatic Lockhart for Defense?"

"Ronald!"

"Lockhart?" Harry asked, curious.

"Yes, Gilderoy Lockhart," Hermione said with a beaming smile. "Oh, he's such a great wizard, Harry. All of the things he's done! Battling magical creatures and discovering new—"

"Oh, but I'm sure we'll get to hear all about that in class," Ron interrupted. "Or we could just read about it. He practically wrote the entire book list."

Harry couldn't help but to smile a little at that as he obtained a quill and some parchment from his trunk that had been left over from last year.

"Alright, Hermione. Do you think you could help me get started with this potions essay?"

* * *

><p>By the time Harry finished writing his first essay, it was late afternoon, and they would be arriving at their destination soon.<p>

The young wizard's back ached from being bent over his work for so long, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.

"I'm going to go for a walk," Harry announced, getting slowly to his feet. The compartment suddenly seemed too small. It was like being back at the Dursleys', locked in his tiny bedroom.

"Are you sure? We're almost there, Harry," Hermione's eyebrows were once again raised.

"I'll just be a minute. It's a little stuffy in here," Harry explained. He then left the compartment quickly, closing the door behind him.

There were very few people in the corridor, for which Harry was grateful. It meant that he didn't have to suppress a grimace at the pain in his back. He walked a little ways up the train, wanting to stretch his legs a bit before going back to his own compartment to change into his robes.

He was just about to turn back when it happened.

A compartment door slid open just in front of him.

And Draco Malfoy emerged, Crabbe and Goyle right behind him.

Harry just closed his eyes and sighed. Of _course _it had to be Malfoy.

"Well, look who it is," Malfoy said almost immediately, his voice positively gleeful. "_Scarhead."_

Crabbe and Goyle guffawed loudly while Malfoy stood there smirking at his own joke, and Harry took the opportunity to turn around and head back the way he came.

Only Malfoy wasn't finished.

"Tell me, Potter. What's it like to have such a hideous disfigurement permanently branded to your forehead?"

Harry froze in his tracks, fists trembling at his sides.

And Malfoy continued."What's it like to have to look into the mirror every single day and be reminded that you're nothing more than a _freak of nature_? A worthless freak—"

It was exactly like being in the backyard at the Dursleys' house, with Dudley taunting him relentlessly. And without thinking, Harry whirled around and threw a fist in Malfoy's direction.

The next thing he knew, he felt something hit his mouth as either Crabbe or Goyle took a swing at him. He somehow managed to duck around the two goons, however, and dove at the now terrified-looking blond boy, who let out a shout of fear as Harry tackled him to the ground.

"Harry! That's enough! Get up! Get up!"

The voice belonged to Percy Weasley, who managed to pull Harry off of Malfoy and into a standing position.

"He's completely lost his mind!" Malfoy was shouting, looking directly at the Slytherin Prefect who had found his way into the corridor alongside Percy.

All up and down the train, compartment doors slid open, and curious students were sticking their heads out to see what all the commotion was about. Thankfully, Ron and Hermione didn't seem to be among them.

"Alright, everybody back inside your compartments! We'll be arriving at Hogsmeade station in just a few minutes!" Percy raised his voice above the crowd. "Go on. Nothing to see here!"

Percy waited a moment for his orders to be followed before turning back to Harry, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"That goes for all of you. Your heads of house will be sorting this matter out."

With that, the Slytherin Prefect ushered the three students in his house back to their compartment, and Percy began steering Harry in the opposite direction. Harry hadn't really gotten the chance to get a good look at Malfoy's face, but he was fairly certain that he'd punched him hard enough to leave a black eye.

_Ha. Something hideous for _you _to look at in the mirror, _Harry thought viciously.

"What was that all about, Harry?" Percy asked, sounding both appalled and concerned at the same time.

"Hey, leave him alone, Perce," Fred's head appeared out of a compartment door.

"Yeah, that little git had it coming to him," George chimed in.

"It was reckless and irresponsible!" Percy retorted.

"Sorry," Harry said, the word barely audible.

Percy rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "Here. Let me fix your lip." He raised his wand towards Harry.

Harry's hand went to his mouth, then. There was a small trickle of blood there where Crabbe or Goyle had hit him. He hadn't even noticed.

"No, don't! Leave it!" Fred said.

"What on earth for?" Percy asked, turning to his brother.

"Evidence, of course!" George exclaimed. "What do you think is going to happen if Malfoy appears to be all banged up, but Harry doesn't have a scratch?"

"Snape'll try to pin the whole thing on Harry!" Fred answered without giving Percy the chance.

"Alright, alright! Just...get back to your compartments!"

"We're already in our—"

Percy just let out a groan of frustration and headed off, leaving Harry alone with the twins.

Fred winked. "Better go back and get your robes on Harry."

"And good luck with Snape," George added, before the twins slid their door shut.

Once again, Harry's stomach clenched at the mention of the professor.

But whether it was out of fear or something else, he wasn't quite sure.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Yes, ladies and gentlemen, Snape will finally be appearing in Chapter 6! I'm really looking forward to writing him. It should be a lot of fun!**

**-Ailee17**


End file.
